Breathe
by Karis Artemisia Judith
Summary: The scream that woke him wasn't loud—it was small, hoarse, half-strangled—but it brought him out of bed, on his feet and in the hallway, hatchet in hand, before he was truly awake.


The scream that woke him wasn't loud—it was small, hoarse, half-strangled—but it brought him out of bed, on his feet and in the hallway, hatchet in hand, before he was truly awake.

Kristoff had spent most of his life in the mountains, in the open. He'd gotten used to sleeping with his ears open, listening for danger, for the sound of bandits, the sound of wolves, the sound of Sven sneaking into the carrot supply. None of those were problems that he faced in the castle, but a part of him was still always alert. Always listening. For Anna.

As soon as he yanked open the door to her room he swore harshly under his breath. _This one_. In the three months since the thaw, the three months he'd been living in the castle, he'd come to know all her nightmares. This was the worst. This was the nightmare where she felt the cold spreading through her chest and squeezing the air from her lungs.

Anna twisted in her sleep, her back and neck arching, one hand a fist clutched over her heart, the other clawing at the tangled bedclothes. Her breathing was shallow, her chest heaving as she struggled to pull air into her lungs. Tears shone on her cheeks in the moonlight from the window.

"Anna." Leaving the hatchet abandoned at the foot of the bed (the bed was so large and Anna so small that the tool was a full yard away from her kicking feet) he began to pull the blankets away from her gently, carefully—it was important for her not to feel trapped, for her to be able to move. "Anna, wake up. You have to wake up." Kristoff put a hand on her waist, lightly, not to hold her down but hoping that the warmth from his skin would calm her. Her spine curved up, and he could feel her ribs under his palm through her nightdress. God, she felt so delicate, so fragile. "Anna," he said desperately.

Her eyes finally opened, wide with panic, staring around the room as if she could still see the scene from her nightmare, her lashes dark and spiked with tears. One tiny hand flew to his wrist, keeping his fingers pressed to her side, but her other hand stayed fisted against her chest and her breathing still came in tiny, frantic gasps. The dream had sunk icy claws into her, driving in fear and panic until her lungs constricted.

"Anna, it's okay. It's okay, you're safe."

"Elsa," she gasped, the sound barely audible.

"She's safe too. You saved her. Everyone is safe. You're safe, Anna."

Anna shut her eyes, shaking her head on the pillow, the hand over her chest spasming. He took it in his, gently pressing the fist open so that he could curl his fingers around hers, his thumb stroking over her skin.

"I know it feels real but it's a dream, it's just a dream. Look at me, Anna." He cupped her face, lifting her chin to raise her eyes to his. "I need you to stay with me, sweetheart. Focus on me. The dream can't hurt you, but you need to breathe."

She shook her head, her lips moving soundlessly. _Can't_.

"You can. Here—" He lifted her hand, so small and cold, and held it to his chest, his palm completely covering her trembling fingers. He took a slow, deep breath. "Feel that?" Kristoff took her other hand and laid it back over her heart, smoothing the fingers that would have clenched and pressing them down gently with his own. "You can do this, Anna. Stay with me. Breathe with me." He took another breath, and felt her chest shudder in response. He kept his eyes on hers, trying to hold her with his gaze, to shut out the dream, to keep her in this moment with him. _Stay with me._

Another breath, and Anna's chest rose and fell beneath their hands, almost in rhythm with his. Her hands were slowly growing warm against his skin. Each breath was steadier than the last, and with each one the fluttering pulse under his fingertips grew calmer as the pounding of her heart slowed. "That's my girl," he murmured, taking his hand away from his chest to smooth the sweat darkened hair from her forehead, to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "That's my strong girl."

Anna lifted her hand from his chest as well, but only so that she could put it against his cheek. He turned his head to kiss her palm. "Did I wake you up?" she asked, her voice still hoarse and quiet. "Sorry…"

"It's okay," he told her. "It's okay. I'm here for you. I'll always be here."

She smiled, her fingers stroking over his jaw, but he could see how heavy her eyelids were. The panic had drained out of her, leaving her exhausted. He leaned down to kiss her, and her sleepy lips slid clumsily from his to his chin, then she overcorrected and kissed his nose. Anna made a grumpy, sleepy little noise when he chuckled at her. Kristoff grinned and rubbed his nose against her cheek, then lifted up to press his lips to her forehead.

"You need to sleep," he said. "Go to sleep." His hand smoothed over her hair. "You're safe."

"Mmkay." She turned onto her side, curling up a little. "Kristoff," she mumbled.

"I'm here."

"Thank you." The whisper trailed off into a sigh.

Kristoff tucked the coverlet around her (not too tightly) and sat watching her sleep for a moment, his hand running lightly over her soft, mussed hair. He wished that he could join her, that he could tuck her against him and curl his body around her to keep her warm, to feel her peaceful breathing through the night. But, he reflected, rubbing a hand across his eyes, now that the adrenaline of his waking was wearing off he was definitely too tired for it to be safe.

Despite the country's general acceptance of the queen's powers, Elsa's fear of public opinion ran too deep to be melted away so quickly. The thought of a scandal terrified her. There had been awkward conversations, and Kristoff and Anna had both made certain promises. Promises that included never, ever being caught in one another's rooms in the morning. There was nothing to stop them from crossing the hallway after dark, and Elsa knew that if she heard a furtive knock, an opening door, then there would be no sobs or screams of fear from her sister's room that night. She would never have denied Anna that. But when the hallway was crossed it was always with the silent agreement that one of them had to stay awake, to cross the hallway again before dawn.

There was no chance that Kristoff would stay awake once he was down. Instead he bent over her to press his lips to her hair, to let his fingertips rest gently just below her collarbone for a moment, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, the soft exhalations stirring the hair on his wrist. He brushed his knuckles over her soft cheek. "I love you," he murmured, hoping the words would sink into her dreams. "I love you."

A flicker of movement in the doorway caught his eye as he stood and Kristoff paused for a moment, then picked up his abandoned hatchet and went out, looking back at the curl of Anna's sleeping form before gently closing the door. When he turned away it was to find the queen standing in the hallway.

"Is she all right?"

Kristoff leaned against the door. The hall was dim, but there was enough light from the big window at the far end to show Elsa wrapped in a dressing gown, her usually immaculate braid mussed, her arms wrapped anxiously around herself.

"She's okay," he said. "She's sleeping."

"It was the bad one."

"Yeah. But she's fine. She's going to be fine. She's strong."

The queen smiled toward the closed door, one of her small, closed smiles, so easily missed. "Yes. She is." She looked up at Kristoff. "Thank you. For helping her."

He shrugged. "You know," he said, hesitantly, because this is the queen—no. Not right now. Right now she's just Anna's worried sister. "You know, you could go to her, one of these nights. I know you're always awake for them too."

Elsa shook her head, sharp little jerks that made the end of her braid twitch. Her hands twisted together at her waist. "No, no I couldn't. I'm probably the last person she wants to see, when she dreams about…" Ice rimed her fingers and she hastily hid them against the fabric of her robe.

"That's not true," Kristoff said. "Listen, she's never afraid of you. She's afraid for you. The first thing she asks when she wakes up is about you."

"Really?" The question is the very softest of whispers.

"Yeah. She doesn't like to talk about it, but I think part of the dream is that she…that it happens before she gets to you. She dreams that she was too late. I think…I think it would help a lot, if she wakes up sometime and you're there, and she can see you."

Elsa nodded, slowly. "I wish her dreams weren't so bad."

"It's because she sleeps so heavily. You and I, we can wake ourselves up out the nightmares." The queen eyed him and Kristoff realized what he'd said. "Ah…I don't mean to listen, I'm just used to always listening—listening for other things, I mean. Outdoor things. And it's so quiet in here that I can't help hearing things that I'm not trying to listen to. Sorry. I don't mean to. But I can't help it. I—" he broke off, and shrugged helplessly. "I know you have nightmares, but you wake yourself up. So do I. But Anna doesn't do that. If there's no one to wake her up she just goes on being trapped in the dream."

"But you'll always be here to wake her."

"We'll always be here," he correctly quietly.

Elsa smiled. "Yes. We."

Kristoff pushed away from the door, meaning to go back to his room, and Elsa seemed to notice the hatchet he was holding for the first time. She blinked at it in confusion.

"What is that for?"

"Oh, it's, um, for protection." He shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck with his other hand. "It's an old habit."

"Just what did you expect to protect my sister from?" she asked, one of her eyebrows lifting.

He shrugged again. "From…anything. Not you," he added hastily. "I know she doesn't need protection from you. I know she's in a castle, with gates and guards, I just…it's a habit, from life in the mountains. And the last time I trusted her safety to someone else…" Kristoff stopped, turning his head to look at the door behind him, wishing he had left it open so that he could still see Anna sleeping. Anna safe. "You know," he said quietly, "all of my nightmares are of that day. They're all of that sword coming down toward her."

"Mine too," Elsa said. "Most of them."

They nodded to each other, and then Elsa took a hesitant step forward and stood on her toes to place a sisterly peck on his cheek. The cool touch startled him, but then he smiled at her.

"You know," she said, turning towards her own door. "If you hurried up and married her, you wouldn't have to worry about all this sneaking around in the dark." She smiles at him over her shoulder, the widest of her smiles, the one he's only ever seen her use with Anna before. She leaves him blushing in the hallway as she slips into her own room.

Kristoff looked again at the painted wood of Anna's door, putting out a hand to touch it lightly. _Soon_. He didn't want to rush her, he wanted her to feel sure, to feel safe…but _soon_.


End file.
